


when the ink dries

by bythunder



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bythunder/pseuds/bythunder
Summary: Collection of drabbles from tumblr prompts





	1. Jaime x Sansa

_things you said after you kissed me_

* * *

Sansa stands at the balcony and stares across the water. Jaime wonders what it is that shes’s searching for out there beyond the sunset, where no man has ever sailed to and returned. Does she want to go there? Is the unknown better than the hell his family has put her through?

He cannot undo everything that his father’s done, or his sister, or his nephew. He cannot put Ned Stark’s head back on his shoulders nor resurrect her brother and mother. He cannot unseat the Boltons from Winterfell. Though, if Father has his way, her son by Tyrion will do just that, should his brother ever manage to bed his wife. 

Jaime cannot heal her grief, but since being exiled to Casterly Rock, removed from the Kingsguard, he has taken it upon himself to watch over her. He’s not sure why he does it. Mayhaps it’s the vow he made to that bitch Catelyn Stark, or the one he made to his brother when he sent his wife away from the capital. Or it could be something else altogether, it might just be that soft heart Cersei’s always teased him for. Jaime doesn’t linger long on the why of it. He doesn’t try to sort out why he does the things he does. Ordering the kitchens to bake lemon cakes for her and sending a seamstress to dress her as befitting a Lady of the Rock. When he hired singers for her nameday, he almost won a smile from her, and when he asked her to dance… Sansa was a sweet girl, she deserved none of the cruelty and pain the world, the  _ Lannisters _ , heaped upon her.

Still, none of his efforts seemed to cure her of her heartache. Jaime was at a loss how to help further. If he could turn back time, he would, but the gods were silent on that prayer. Nothing he did for her stopped the tears she would shed at night. The maids would tell him in the mornings, concerned for their lady, but Jaime had no clue what more he could do for her. 

Until…

He had been restless, couldn’t sleep. Jaime had trouble sleeping ever since the dungeons of Riverrun. Even with the plush featherbeds, the silk bedding, the dreamwine… Nothing helped, so he found himself wandering the halls of the Rock. And this particular night, his feet led him to Sansa’s door. He’d never heard her cry before. It was terrible. He assumed that it was soft sobs, the ladylike tears that Cersei had shed for him, but this was… the sound of pure agonizing pain. Heartwrenching screams, Jaime has no idea how he’d not heard it before, how everyone in the Westerlands hadn’t heard the sound of Sansa Stark’s broken heart. 

Jaime bursts through the door, without a thought, without care for decency,  _ it’s his brother’s wife _ , and makes his way to her, pulls her into his arms and cradles her to his chest. Her nails dig into the fabric of his shirt, biting into his skin, but his pain is neglieble to hers. “Sansa, Sansa, shh. Sansa, I’ve got you, shh.”

It takes a while, but Jaime stays, holds her and rocks her gently, muttering incoherent words, comforts, nonsense. Eventually, she calms. The tears don’t abate, her cheeks still shine with them, but she does quiet. Jaime pulls back to look at her, her reddened eyes and chapped lips, and gods, how can she be beautiful like this? But she is. And it stirs him. Now that he’s witnessed this, he vows, more solemnly than he’s ever sworn before, that he will do anything, everything in his power to make sure she never feels like this again.

Jaime brushes the tears away with his thumb, his good one, not the cold, unfeeling golden one. He dries her eyes and allows himself to get lost in that sea of blue, before doing something as reckless and impulsive as he’s ever done. He pulls his goodsister into a kiss. Soft, not demanding, nothing more than a press of his lips to hers, before promising, “I’ll return Winterfell to you.”


	2. Arya x Podrick

_things you said after we fell in love_

* * *

There isn’t anything he won’t say. How much he loves her, how brave and beautiful she is, how he’s never been this happy. Podrick tells her all about his misspent youth, his time in King’s Landing serving as squire to Lord Tyrion, he exalts Lady Brienne and regals her with the stories of their adventures. Podrick apologizes to her that he failed to do anything for Sansa while he was in King’s Landing, and regrets that his mission with Brienne failed to find her. But Arya forgives him for that, because Sansa, through all odds, made it back to Winterfell, safe and sound, if changed some. 

And how can she hold any of that against him, because their journeys brought them together. If Podrick and Brienne had found Sansa where she was hidden in the Vale, then they never would’ve crossed paths in the Riverlands. He wouldn’t have been there when she found that  _thing_ , that horror that wore her mother’s face. Pod wouldn’t have held her that night as she cried and screamed and swore, hating herself for killing her mother but knowing that Stoneheart had to die. 

Arya finds it incredible just how much Pod has to say, about anything, everything, because with her, he’s not tongue-tied at all.


	3. Lyanna x Dacey

_things you said on the highway_

* * *

It was a thing they did sometimes, just to get away, for some peace and quiet. They both had big families, too many siblings, loving-but-in-the-way parents. It was nice to just hop in Dacey’s old station wagon and just  _drive_. Sometimes they would talk for hours, bitch about whatever was bothering them, or sing loudly to the radio, or debate about terrible movies they’d seen. Dacey  _insisted_  Star Wars was one of the worst series ever made, while Lyanna  _knew_  that they were a cultural masterpiece. 

Despite her bad taste in films, Lyanna liked Dacey. She was her best friend, by far. Even as much as she loved her brothers, and she really did, but it wasn’t the same with them. They were boys. Yeah, sure, Lya might want to be one of the boys and hang out with the guys, play sports and chase them around on dirtbikes in the backyard, but, at the end of the day, she was still a girl and it was nice to have a female friend, someone who understood. 

At first, she thought it was just that she wanted a sister. Mom and Aunt Branda were close, and some part of Lyanna had always been a little jealous of that. But as Lyanna got older, and discovered more about herself, she realized, yeah, a sister would be nice, but that’s not how she felt about Dacey. The way she felt about Dacey, was, well…

“Dacey, I like you.”

“Oh yeah?” Dacey turns her head, glances at Lya from the the drivers seat, and grins. “I like you too, Stark.”


	4. Jon x Dany

_things you said when you asked me to marry you_

* * *

“All my life, I’ve been trying to find my way home,” Dany says softly, whispered against Jon’s chest. “When I was small, I thought it was a house in Braavos with a red door. That’s the oldest memory I have, that red door, and Willam Darry. But he died and Viserys and I were forced onto the streets. Viserys always said home was here, in Westeros, in King’s Landing, in the Red Keep. I didn’t believe him then, how could home be a place I’d never been? But after he died, and after I lost my sun and stars, and the life I thought I found with the Dothraki… I took my brother’s words too much to heart. I thought I would find everything I ever wanted, the place I belonged,  _home_ , if only I could reclaim my father’s throne.”

“Dany, why are you telling me all this?”

“Because, Jon,” Dany sits up to meet his eye properly, “I now know all of that is nonsense. I have my throne, and all it does is hurt my bum. It’s terribly uncomfortable.”

Jon chuckles and pulls her down for a kiss. “Are you saying you want a new throne? I’m afraid your ancestors might come down to haunt you if you do.”

Dany accepts his kiss but swats at his chest after. “No, Jon, you mistake me. I’m trying to tell you — I’ve come to realize that home is not a place. It’s not the house with the red door, it’s not the Red Keep, it’s not that bloody, ugly throne. Home is a person, home is — is  _you._ Jon, please marry me. Please, let me come home.”


	5. Arya x Aegon

_things you said when you asked me to marry you_

* * *

“You know what everyone is going to say, don’t you, Egg?”

Aegon sighs, but does not get up from where he is on one knee before her. “Arya, I am not my father, and you are not your aunt. You are not promised to anyone, no one else but me I do hope, and I’m not married. They can say all they want that we are Rhaegar and Lyanna come again, but we will prove that we are no one else but Arya and Aegon. Please, my love, say yes.”

Arya chews her lip, Aegon’s noticed that habit of hers when she’s anxious, it’s terribly sweet. Every time he sees her do it, it just makes him want to kiss those lips all the more. “If I marry you, I’ll be queen some day.”

“I suppose that is a bitter consequence of marrying the crown prince, yes.”

“I don’t want to be queen.”

“What do you want to be, Arya?”

“Your wife. Just your wife, just happy. I’ve seen what crowns do to people, and I want no part of that. I only want you.”

“Say the word, and I’ll give up my claim. Rhaenys can take the throne, it would please Uncle Doran immensely to have the crown follow Dornish law anyway.”

“You wouldn’t really do that.”

“I would.”

“Then prove it. Let’s run away, tonight.”

“I’ve a ship waiting in the harbor.”


	6. Brandon x Catelyn

_things you always meant to say but never got the chance_

* * *

The crypts are dark and cold and smell like moist earth. Even with the torch in her hand, Catelyn finds them foreboding. It is her fate to be buried here, beside her lord husband, though she wishes it could be that, when it is her time, she could have the funeral rites of the Tullys. Give her back to the river where she belongs. She doesn’t like to think that her immortal soul would be trapped here in the dark until the end of time.

Catelyn wouldn’t have come down here at all, except… The stonemason had just finished his work. Two years to the day since he was murdered. Her heart still broke to think of his fate, and that of Lord Stark and Lady Lyanna. But her Brandon, her betrothed. Even in cold stone, she longed to see his laughing face once more. 

But of course, the stone wasn’t laughing. The mason had given him the solemn face of the Starks, not even the smallest line of a smile. He looked more like Eddard than the boy she remembered. She would give anything for his warmth again.

Catelyn strokes the cold stone of his cheek. She feels her cheeks burning, and for a moment, she’s confused, before realizing it’s from her own tears.

_“Damn it, Brandon! Why did you have to go?”_


	7. Aegon x Sansa

_things you said when we first met_

* * *

The tourney was as thrilling as Sansa had always pictured. Just like a song. Even the stink of the crowds, it only added to the atmosphere. Everything was beautiful. Everywhere she looked, Sansa could see banners flapping in the wind, from every noble house from every kingdom, a sea of colors. No matter how where she walked on the grounds, she could always hear music, there was always some singer or mummer playing for coin. Merchant stalls created a labyrinth that Sansa could spend _days_ exploring, wishing she had the coin to buy every scrap of silk and sparkling bauble that caught her eye. It was all so overwhelming. Sansa wanted to see everything, memorize every detail lest she forget, but there was too much for any one girl to see it all.

But nothing was so grand as the joust. Oh, it was better than Sansa had always pictured. All the knights she’d ever heard tell of, all competing against each other. Even the crown prince! Prince Aegon Targaryen, he was just as handsome as everyone said. Tall and lean, his silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, and his indigo eyes seemed to pierce straight into her soul, even through the crowds.

She cheered loud as anyone else when the prince took up his lance. This was it, the last go of it, the prince against the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne. Ser Arthur was skilled, but it should be the prince to win. Sansa clasped her hands and prayed to the Warrior to guide his lance, and then the flag dropped and they were off, barreling down the lane.

A crash, the entire crowd gasps together, waiting for the dust to settle and reveal their victor. _It’s… it’s Aegon, it’s the prince!_ Sansa leapt to her feet and clapped wildly. He looked stunning in his armor, black as night, as he rode his horse in a slow loop around the lane, accepting the exaltation of the adoring crows, before stopping at the royal box. King Rhaegar stood to greet the victor. The king’s pride in his son was evident, the queen’s even moreso. The king spoke words of Aegon’s valiance and chivalry, his skill and command of horse, while Queen Elia placed the crown of roses, red as the dragon on their sigil, upon the tip of his lance.

The prince accepted with grace, and then it was time for him to lay the honor on the lady of his choosing. His eyes searched the crowd, Sansa held her breath. It seemed like an eon before he urged his mount forward.

“Sansa!” Arya’s sharp elbow in her ribs brought her sharply back to reality. The prince had stopped at their box, the tip of his lance offering the roses to her. Sansa felt faint, had her heart stopped beating? This was too wonderful to be true!

“My lady, I would name you my Queen of Love and Beauty.”


	8. Arthur x Lyanna

_things you said in (y)our vows_

* * *

He grips her wrists hard enough to bruise and when she aims a kick at his shin, she swears, yelps in pain,  _gods, don’t let her toe be broken_. It would make it that much harder to run. Not that she would get very far, the knights Rhaegar left behind to ‘protect’ her were much too viligant. Surprisingly so. Most men in Lyanna’s life had a tendency to underestimate girls. Not so with Arthur Dayne. He caught her as she tried to slip out the door, quiet as a shadow. Yet somehow not quiet enough. She fought, though, fiercely, Brandon would be proud.  _Brandon…_  Lyanna lashes out again. “Let me go! Let me go, you beast!”

Arthur obliges, dropping her wrists as he pushes her back into her chambers.  _Her cage._  “My lady, you know you are not to leave this tower. The prince was very clear in his instructions.”

“How can you call yourself a knight?” Lyanna spits at him. “Forgive my Northern ignorance, but is it not in your vows to protect the innocent, women and children? Did you not swear that before your gods?”

“I did. That is why I am here, Lady Lyanna. Prince Rhaegar charged me to protect you.”

“But you won’t protect me from him…”


	9. Jaime x Cersei

_things you were afraid to say_

* * *

Cersei is crying. Jaime doesn’t understand at first, this isn’t right. His fierce and beautiful sister doesn’t cry. He can’t even recall if she cried when their mother died. She might have, but Jaime does not remember it. “Sweet sister, who’s done this to you? I’ll kill the man,” Jaime avows, rushing to her side. 

Cersei doesn’t respond though and her tears don’t abate. All she can do is throw her arms about his neck and cry on his shoulder. Jaime holds her close and strokes her hair, kisses away the tears when he can. 

“Cersei, my love, what is wrong? Tell me.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

“Did that bastard husband of yours do something now? I swear, Cersei, I killed one king and I can kill another. I don’t care. I’ll do that for you.”

“…He got a child on me,” a soft-voiced confession. “I’ve missed my moonblood twice now, and the maester just left… I’m with child.”

Jaime feels the blood drain from his face. He knows what she does, this babe can’t be his, not like little Joffrey is, she’s too far along if it’s been two moons. Robert Baratheon’s seed has finally taken root in his sister’s womb. 

“I don’t want his babe, Jaime. I don’t want to give him heirs, I  _won’t_  —”

“Shh, my love, have no fear.” He pulls her close and wraps her up in his arms, under his protection. “I will help you, you don’t have to do this. Let me take care of this for you.”


	10. Lyanna x Robert

_things you said on our honeymoon_

* * *

“I never thought I’d be this happy,” Lyanna marks in wonder while she lies in Robert’s arms, watching the sunset over the water, the gentle lapping of the waves upon the sand lulling her to dreamland. 

“What does that mean?”

Lyanna pulls his arm off her shoulders that she may sit up, look him in the eye as she tells him, “You know I never wanted this, the whole relationship-marriage thing. I didn’t think that was me. Ned, for sure, but I never saw myself as the type.”

“Are you saying you regret getting married?” He asks, worry plain on his face. It’d been all of two days, this might be the fastest divorce in history.

“No, stupid. Just the opposite. I’m saying that I love you.”


	11. Jaime x Cersei

_things you said in your sleep_

* * *

 

Jaime loved watching his twin sleep. So rarely did they have the opportunity to share a bed all through the night, either he was off in Crakehall or Cersei in King’s Landing with Father, and even when they were both in Casterly Rock, the echoes of their mother’s fears still held over the castle, servants watched too closely. So whenever he could manage moments like this one, where Cersei wasn’t shoving him out the door the moment he spilled, he took the time to treasure it approrpiately. He held off sleep as long as he could so he could watch Cersei without fear that his gaze was lingering too long, or that someone would see that his gaze was fixed upon his sister’s sweet teats. 

Speaking of those sweet teats… Jaime pulled the blanket back, revealing to him Cersei’s beauty in full. To say she was a goddess would be an insult, the Maiden herself only wished that she looked like Cersei. He loved her so much, loved that this was all for him, no one else could see Cersei in her naked glory. All mine, he thought with a possessive and satisfied smirk as he bends to worship her. He kissed the soft white flesh of her breast, one side and then the other. She moaned for him when he latched on to her, high and sweet, and he grinned, victorious, until he heard her sigh, “Rhaegar…”


	12. Aegon x Sansa

_things you said at 1am_

* * *

It would be easy to blame it on the booze, but he knows that’s not what makes him say it. “My name isn’t Griff. It’s Aegon.”

“Griff?” Alayne pauses, confusion clear upon her face, and that only surprises him a little. He thought she knew, he thought they each understood the other to be a liar. But he is tired of the lies, and the dyes, and hells, he thinks he might be on the edge of in love with this girl, but he knows he can’t cross that line as Griff. It’s time.

“Alayne…” Aegon knows that’s not her real name, but he doesn’t know what else to call her. He hoped that someday, soon, she would trust him enough to share her secrets, but he wouldn’t ask it of her, just as she hadn’t asked it of him. He could wait until she was ready. He was ready now though, whatever the fallout.

“I’m Aegon Targaryen.”


	13. Jaime x Lyanna

_things you said when no one else was around_

* * *

“Teach me to fight.”

Jaime laughs at that, at skinny little Lyanna’s demand of him. He doubted her small arms could even  _lift_  a sword, let alone swing one. But she was fierce and determined. She takes a step closer, and before he even realizes what she’s doing, she’s shoved him to the ground, her face pinched in a rather adorable scowl.

“You think you’re the greatest knight in the realm, don’t you, Lannister?” She challenges, her hands settled at her hips with a bossy tilt of her jaw, something that reminds him altogether too much of his sister. “Well, the true greatest knight should be able to train anyone, even a girl.”

Jaime knows exactly what it is she’s doing, her ploy obvious, but gods be damned, he is a Lannister and cannot help himself. Their pride is and has always been the chink in their armor. “Fine then, girl. Get yourself a sword. But gods help you, at your first whinge, we are done with this game.


	14. Ned x Catelyn

_things you said when you thought I was asleep_

* * *

 

The sound of her chamber door creaking open wakes her. She opens one eye, then the other, slowly peaks around the covers to spot the intruder. She expected to see little Sansa, that poor sweet girl never wanted to sleep in the nursery and would make up any excuse to crawl into bed with her mother. But it wasn’t her daughter that stood at the door, but her husband. Come to claim his marital rights, she assumes, though he usually tells her at supper to expect him. Showing up unannounced, creeping in like a predator in the night? It’s so odd that Catelyn does not know what to do, nor what to say, so she elects to say nothing at all. She closes her eyes and waits for him to come to her. 

Ned does come to her, she feels the bed dip behind her as he settles in. Catelyn braces herself for his touch, for the cool night air to hit her skin as he removes the covers from her. But none of that comes. He simply lies beside her, him above the blankets and her underneath, and weaves his hand through her hair. It’s such an oddity, Ned never comes to  _sleep_  in her chambers, he cannot bear the heat, prefers his own cool rooms, that Catelyn nearly speaks, until Ned talks first,

“Oh, gods, Cat, but I wish I could tell you the truth.”


	15. Robb x Jeyne

_things you said too quietly_

* * *

 

“Marry me.”

It comes so soft that at first, she thinks she must have dreamt it. He hasn’t yet risen, his head resting upon her breast, still naked from the night before. The rising sun peeks through her windows and sets his auburn hair to flaming copper. This king who isn’t more than a boy. But a king nonetheless, and she is all too aware of the station she holds. The Westerlings are nobility, but only as a courtesy of tradition. They are a poor house and ill-respected. To say nothing of the fact that her family is sworn to the Lannisters, Westermen, enemies of Robb’s kingdom. How could she possibly forget that, as it is that which brought him to her castle in the first place. They are enemies, he is occupying her home, his men guard their gates… However sweet he is, and he is sweet, he couldn’t ever marry her.

But she hears it again. He stirs against her, lifts his head and their eyes meet. It is not her imagination that hears, “Marry me, Jeyne.”


	16. Ned x Cersei

_things you said through your teeth_

* * *

“I’ll not have your bastard in my home.”

With her teeth bared like that, her golden hair falling over her shoulders, framing her face just so, Ned is struck with the sudden notion how perfectly appropriate her sigil is.  _A lioness_. She is stunning, this wife of his, and just as deadly. But he is deadly too, even without a sword in hand. He is a direwolf and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his pack. Cersei may be his wife, but Jon was blood, Jon was all he had left… If he had to make the choice, he’d choose the boy.

“Then go back to Casterly Rock, I won’t bring him there. But he is a Stark and he belongs in Winterfell.”

 


	17. Lyanna x Robert

_things you said when you met my parents_

* * *

Robert is in the door less than five minutes before he says, “Mr. Stark, I would like your permission to marry your daughter.”

Dad’s shock is no match for her own. They’d only been dating for four months. Really only two if you start counting from the time she started allowing Robert to call her ‘girlfriend’ in public. They weren’t anywhere close to marriage, they didn’t even discuss it. Except in that hazy, blissed out, postcoital, _I wanna do that with you forever_ kind of way. She didn’t think he meant it.

“Oh, I mean it,” Robert says with all the confidence in the world. “I know it’s fast, and you don’t know me yet, but Lyanna is an amazing woman, and when you know something is right, you don’t wait for it. And I promise, I will spend the rest of this weekend, and the rest of my life if need be, proving to you that I am worthy of your daughter, ser.”

Dad looks him up and down, studiously, scruntinazing the brash young man standing in his front hall. “Lyanna, what do you think of this? Do you want to marry him?”

They both turn to her, both expecting an answer. An answer Lyanna doesn’t have, because this is ridiculous. If she had known Robert was going to do that, propose in front of her father, she never would’ve brought him to meet the family,  _ever_. “I think I’m not answering anything until I see the ring,” Lyanna aims to be flippant, hoping to drop the conversation, because there is  _no way—_

But then, all of the sudden, Robert’s on one knee before her with a diamond ring in his hand and says, “Well?”


	18. Jon x Val

_things you said before you kissed me_

* * *

“I know what the kneeler king offered you, Jon. I know why you’re here.” Val shakes her head, a tired sigh escapes her. “I am not part and parcel to Winterfell, tell your king that. Tell him I am a free woman, not some consolation prize to be given away. I will bed whom I choose and I am no man’s wife.”

“I do not come here for Stannis,” Jon replies, though it sounds like a lie in his head. Because he’ll not deny, he wants to accept Stannis offer, to be Lord of Winterfell, everything he’s wanted since boyhood. But he’s here for Val, because he knows her, knows her people, knows that she would not sit idle and accept what she was told to do. He’ll not accept Stannis until Val accepts him. “I came to steal you.”

That wins him a smile from her, setting Jon’s poor heart stuttering. He knows why the Southroners all call her a princess, she’s more beautiful than even Cersei Lannister had been with all her silks and jewels. “Is that right, Jon Snow?”

“Aye.”

“Then steal me.”


	19. Lyanna x Robert

* * *

It’s just for the summer. That’s what Lyanna tells herself the first time she lets Robert kiss her. Just for the summer, because her friends are all away and she’s bored. Robert’s not a boyfriend so much as something to do. Someone to tag along when she wanted to go to the beach or the movies, someone to fool around with. **  
**

“Summer’s almost over,” Robert comments one afternoon while they’re tangled together on a blanket spread out on the bed of his truck, parked somewhere far away from everything.

“Yeah.”

“Back to real life.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s been fun, kid.” He pulls his arm from her shoulder, leaving her cold, even in the sunlight as they are.

 _Been fun?_  Lyanna follows his movements as he sits up, climbs out of the truck. “What do you mean,  _been fun_?”

Robert gives her a curious look, a strange blend of fond and sad. “C’mon, Lyanna, don’t– We both know what this has been. And summer flings end with summer. It’s in the name.”

He’s right, that had always been her intention, but now that autumn’s just around the corner and she’s faced with the reality of it, it suddenly occurs to her that she doesn’t want this to end. She’s enjoyed Robert’s company, his attention,  _his kisses_. It’s been one of the best summers she’s ever had, and that’s in no small part due to Robert. She might actually like him, and she knows he likes her too. So why, why does it have to end?

“It doesn’t have to be just a summer fling,” Lya tells him. She stands on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, while his hands come to rest at her waist. “I don’t want it to be just a summer fling. Do you?”

It starts small, his smile, a brief appearance of his dimples, a purse of the lips as he tries to hold it back, but it wins out in the end, bright and wide. “I want you every summer, Lyanna. And every fall, winter, and spring. I want you as long as you’ll have me. Longer, even.”

He bends to kiss her then and she thinks, she just might want him forever.

 


	20. Ned x Cat

* * *

 

Catelyn is not too proud to admit it, she’s had her dream wedding planned since about the age of seven. She and her future husband (to be determined at a later date, but really, he was the last piece of that particular puzzle) would get married at the sept in Riverrun, on a warm summer day, in the afternoon, so that the sunlight pouring in the windows would catch the seven-sided crystals just right and decorate the room with rainbows. Her dress would be an ivory empire-waist, flattering but modest. She would have a three-tiered red velvet cake with buttercream frosting, silver accents and fondant roses. Lysa would be her maid of honor,  _of course_ , and her father would give her away. It would be the happiest day of her whole life.

When she met the man who would be her husband, however, that entire plan got thrown out completely. Ned made her realize that none of that mattered at all. Not a damn thing, not the septon, not the flowers, the dress, none of it. Her husband was not the last piece of the puzzle, hells, there  _was_  no puzzle. Ned was  _everything_. The day she married him, in the woods behind the house in Winterfell, it was happy, yes, but the next day was even better, and the day after better still, and the day after… Every single day she woke up next to Ned, every day he kissed her and every day he told her how lucky he was to have her,  _that_  was the happiest day of her life.


	21. Ned x Cersei

“Cersei, that’s your third mimosa. Robert and Lya aren’t even here yet. Don’t you think you ought to slow down?”

“Eddard, you expect me to put up with Robert Baratheon before noon. Three mimosas are not nearly enough.”

Ned rolls his eyes as Cersei flags down the waiter for another drink. Perfect timing as that is when Robert and Lyanna finally arrive, boisterous and loud and bickering as always. Cersei quickly downs the rest of her drink before putting on a false smile. 

“Ned,” Robert laughs with that too big voice of his, slapping him on the shoulder. “Good to see you. Cersei, what, no smile for me?”

 _Three mimosas are_ definitely _not going to be enough._


End file.
